A Stroke of Genius
by Cerulean Apocalypse
Summary: Children of Athena are supposed to be a blessing for the men she favors, the ones that inspire her. When intelligent-but-irresponsible grad student Frederick Chase meets a certain gray-eyed goddess, his life takes an unexpected turn when he's left with what's either the result of an instance of insanity or a stroke of genius. Oneshot.


Author's Note: I know that there are a lot of 'how I met your mother/father' fanfics, but I just wanted to try it. There aren't too many Athena/Annabeth's dad stories, so I thought it might be interesting. I'm trying a new writing style for this, so tell me how I did. I'm basing this all off of the little hints Annabeth mentions in The Lighting Thief, about how her dad wouldn't have gotten through his doctorate program at Harvard without Athena. My characterization of Frederick as a college student is basically my attempt to combine the friendly absent-mindedness/intelligence he shows in The Titan's Curse with his initial reluctance to care for Annabeth.

A Stroke of Genius

You know that guy who sits in the back of the class and is kind of a goofball? The one that seems like he (or she) just doesn't give a crap about school? The one that annoys the teachers to no end because he/she could be one of the top students if only they made an effort?

If you've ever known someone like that, you probably have a pretty decent idea of what Frederick Chase was like before Harvard. But in order to get a clearer look, let's take a look back to his senior year of college at the University of Miami, where he was a History major and a frat boy.

"Woohooo! Let the Spring Fling Super Duper Beer Bash Extreme Pong Games begin!" yelled a tipsy- looking frat boy in a toga.

"YEAH!" screamed a bunch of toga-clad drunken college students as rap music blared from stereos so loudly that the palm trees overheard shook. A plethora of red and blue plastic cups were stacked on folding tables, and ping pong balls galore bounced everywhere as players attempted to aim for the cups but were blinded by the late-afternoon sun and impaired by double vision. And the coveted amber liquid that is the nectar of college students everywhere flowed freely and abundantly across the wide front lawn of the Phi-Delta-Theta house.

"Who's up for the POOL?" screamed one guy, whose name was Joey, tossing a shrieking and giggling sorority girl over his shoulder and running in a crooked line across the grass toward the pool deck. He attempted to toss her in, but slipped and fell in himself. He bobbed to the surface, and called, "Hey Fred! Get in here, the water's fine!"

A young man with sandy hair and hazel eyes (that would've looked intelligent if he hadn't been so drunk) turned away from his beer cups and ping pong ball and grinned at his friend in the pool. He ran across the lawn in his toga with his long hair swaying in the breeze and leaped off the pool deck, tucked himself into a cannonball and splashed into the shimmering blue water. A group of students cheered as the water sloshed back into the pool and waited for Fred to resurface.

Joey looked confused for a moment, but his expression quickly turned to one of panic as the seconds ticked by and Fred failed to resurface. Suddenly, someone grabbed Joey from behind and pushed him under. Joey thrashed furiously and clawed his way to the surface, howling, "Dude! That wasn't funny!"

Fred grinned. "It looked pretty damn funny to me."

Get the idea? Good. Now, after that, some of you may be thinking something along the lines of, "And he got into Harvard? Like, Harvard University in Massachusetts? How?" Well, young Frederick had a mother who had died several years before who had realized, that despite all of his father's claims to the contrary, that Frederick was actually quite intelligent. Before she died, she had made him promise that no matter what, he would do his best to be successful. Now, as you may have realized, Fred wasn't the type of guy who liked to put in a lot of effort. Like, for anything. But, for his dead mother's sake, he managed to do well and was (barely) accepted to the graduate history program at Harvard.

Fred's first day at Harvard was not a day that he looked back on fondly. In fact, he tried to block it from his memory, which caused some issues later.

It was a sunny day in September, and he headed off to his first class feeling slightly nervous. When he left about an hour later, he was firmly convinced that he would never go back. The professor had spent half the time talking about how the program was so strenuous that only about half of the students who started ended up graduating, and how they'd better clear their social calendars because a minimum of three hours of studying a day was recommended, and that if they didn't think they could handle it they could get their inadequate, slacking, lazy asses off the Harvard campus before they disrupted the worthy students. Then, when all the students had been thoroughly terrified, the professor had given a brief lecture about aspects of history that none of them had even heard of.

After class, Fred wandered across campus feeling miserable and dejected. What the hell had he gotten himself into? What made him possibly think that he was cut out for this? This wasn't him. Sure, he liked history, but he didn't belong here. He sank onto a nearby bench and sat with his head in his hands. "What was I thinking?" he said out loud.

"That you could rely on your natural intellect and this would all be a piece of cake?" asked someone.

He sat up and turned around to find a young woman sitting cross-legged next to him, with a laptop and a pile of books perfectly balanced on her lap.

"Not quite," he replied miserably.

"All right then... It was also the last wish of some dead friend or relative of yours that you push yourself, and now you're beating yourself up because you no longer think that you can do it," she predicted, and then turned to him, her eyebrows raised expectantly, as if waiting for confirmation. Her eyes were really distracting. They were wide and stormy gray, and had this analytical, all-knowing look in them. Most people, looking at them, would've felt a bit foolish. But Fred, at least at the moment, wasn't willing to feel like more of an idiot.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Phil," he replied sarcastically. "Because I had absolutely no idea why I was here. I definitely didn't just say that because I was feeling stressed."

She shrugged, not really seeming to care. "All right, I guess that was over the line. Would you like me to try and console you with false claims about how your professor was just trying to scare you?"

"Um, no, that's okay."

"Good. No use in denying it, it's going to be rough."

"Are you always like this?" he asked, feeling confused but curious about this gray-eyed stranger.

She considered the question. "No, not always. Sometimes I am more intimidating. But I don't think you need to see that side now. It would not be beneficial for your mental health."

He wasn't sure whether to take her seriously or not, but he muttered, "I can believe that."

"But luckily for you, I'm feeling merciful today," she said, suddenly smiling. "Would you like to go for coffee?"

And that is how Frederick met her. Now, just to make it clear, it is unwise to follow a such an exceptionally strange stranger around a place with which you are unfamiliar. Frederick knew this, but he followed her anyway. Why? He could have made up any number of excuses, but the truth was, he was simply intrigued.

Now, let's see what happens at the coffee house.

"So, what did you say your name was?" he asked as she came back to their table carrying two grande-sized cappuccinos.

"Me? My name's Anita Kepler."

He was expecting something more unusual than Anita, but chose not to comment. "I'm Fred. Fred Chase. So where're you from... Anita?"

"I'm an Army brat, so I'm from all over," she explained, almost like she was reciting it. "And I'm also a double major- philosophy and physics, with a minor in history."

"That's an interesting combination," he commented.

"It's important to be well-rounded. Where're you from?"

"Virginia, just outside Richmond. I went to U of Miami. That's where I got into history," he explained.

"So you actually like the subject, then?"

He looked away, trying to decide how to respond. The thing was, he actually loved history. Not that he'd ever told anyone that, since his friends weren't really the type to care. The people in his classes claimed to be history lovers, but he was fairly sure that they only liked knowing a bunch of random facts they could throw around to make others feel stupid. He didn't want to freak this woman out by acting unleashing his well-hidden inner nerd, but something told him she wouldn't mind. "That's a bit of an understatement," he confessed to his coffee. "See, a lot of people don't get it. They think it's all about memorizing a bunch of random names and dates and shit in a textbook. But, like, it's more than that. I mean, you do have to know the names and the dates, but you need to, like, feel it. You know, look back a hundred years ago and see how everything was different, but they were still like us, deep down. And then you get why they did what they did, and you learn from it. That's why I like it," he finished.

As he talked, his eyes had slowly moved up, and now, they met hers. He waited for her to say something.

She smiled and gave him a tiny nod of approval. He felt elated, like that one nod was some kind of prize he'd been training for. "But enough about me," he said, feeling a bit bolder. "What about you? What kinds of philosophy are you into? Confucius? Nietzsche?"

"That," she replied, "Is an entirely different can of worms. I may tell you about it later. For now, I have to go." She stood, took her books, and left without looking back.

"See you around!" he called after her hopefully. He sat there for a minute, then realized how pathetic he must have sounded. "What the hell is wrong with me?" he wondered.

It would be nice to be able to say that after that, he started to shape up and have faith in his ability to do whatever he set his mind to. In truth, his next few weeks were nothing less than the purest form of misery that could exist for him on this side of the river Styx. He failed tests, quizzes, and pretty much all of his hopes and expectations. Fred wasn't alone in his failures. As the professor, Mr. Ibsen, had predicted on the first day, several students dropped out of the program every day. And the most irritating point was, the man (Frederick actually had doubts about this, since he was sure no human being could possibly be this cruel) actually seemed to be happy about it.

"Eighteen down, another forty-two to go," he gloated one day after discovering the number of his students that had quit. He seemed to have a particular enmity for Frederick, always seeming to be ready to pounce on his throat with the hardest questions in the book.

"I'm telling you, dude, that guy is evil," insisted Fred to another student after lecture one day. It was a cold day in early December. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground that crunched under their feet as they hurried back to their dorm rooms, anxious to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Ibsen.

"Maybe he's just trying to test us," suggested Lenny, a short dark-haired guy with a Brooklyn accent. "But you'd better watch out, I think he's got it in for you."

"Why me?" complained Fred. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"People have asked that question for centuries," said a voice from behind him. Fred turned and saw that it was Anita. She smiled slightly and added, "Most choose to blame the deity of their choice."

Lenny nearly jumped out of his skin. "I'll, uh, see you around, Fred," he called, walking away quickly.

Fred watched him go. "You scared him."

She shrugged. "I suppose I did."

He waited for her to say something else: maybe a 'hello, how are you', or 'wow, that kid runs away fast', or even a 'it's good to see you again, Fred' (because he definitely thought it was good to see her again). But she seemed to be indifferent to the fact that she'd essentially caused Lenny to run away. Not indifferent in a cold way, just in a there's-more-important-things-to-think-about way. "So, I haven't seen you around much. Do you live off-campus?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Far. How are your classes going?"

"Horribly," he said, in a cheerfully self-deprecating manner.

She sighed, like he'd disappointed her somehow. "Of course," she muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, slightly miffed.

"It's not you personally. It's just that so many people fail to live up to their potential."

He gave her a look. "Why are you getting on my case? I'm working my ass off here!"

She stared at him with those fixating gray eyes. "Are you?" she asked. She said it quietly, but he could hear the razor-sharp edge in her voice.

He should have gotten annoyed, but for whatever reason, he couldn't. "No," he admitted finally.

Right then, he realized that this was a woman who didn't fall for that kind of response. She wouldn't tolerate whining, or lying. She liked things to be straight to the point, no messing around. He should find that an irritating quality, especially in someone he had just met. Instead, he felt relieved by it. Here, at least, was something concrete, something he could trust to be true. Again, what the hell was wrong with him?

"It's just that I'm not the type of guy who's used to trying hard," he continued. "But I really do want to get through this program. So please, will you help me out, or at least stop with the comments? Because you're right, I'm not trying as hard as I could be, but from now on, I will."

She studied him for a moment. "You seem sincere, but keep in mind this will probably be one of the most difficult things you will ever do. Are you sure?"

"I'm probably crazy for saying this, but yes, I am completely sure."

"Then let's get started. We have work to do."

Now here is where Fred's life started to change. From that day on, his classes seemed to get harder, but while the others struggled, he seemed to improve.

Part of this was due to Anita. She was the one who pushed him to think harder, to study more. He could never understand why exactly she would spend her time helping him, but he was nonetheless grateful for her help. It wasn't that she made it easy for him, but when she talked, she made him want to know more. She seemed to be well-informed on nearly every subject, from politics to chemistry to drama, and tied it all together in a way that made it seem completely relevant.

The only thing she never talked about was herself. She was an enigma to him, and although he tried to figure her out, he couldn't. It seemed like she was always surprising him. Once, when he was walking across campus with her late one night, an owl swooped down on them. Fred dove out of the way, but Anita simply raised her elbow and the owl settled quite comfortably there. Fred watched in fascination as she stroked it gently, then allowed it to fly away into the night.

"Are you some kind of owl whisperer or something?" he asked, only half-joking.

"They're fascinating creatures," she replied casually.

Despite all this mysterious, cryptic behavior, he still found out that once in a while, she did do a few normal things. For example, it seemed that she had a crazy, dysfunctional, and sometimes embarrassing family. She didn't talk about them often, but he did recall her mentioning one of her brothers having some sort of perpetual and obvious affair with her other brother's wife. Once or twice, she even complained about her nutcase stepmother and her uncles, who were apparently a witless fisherman and a morbid emo.

Another normal thing she did was reading tabloids. He never understood why anyone would read anything with a headline that said something like: 'Crystal Grace's Mystery Man' and was captioned, 'Could He Be the Father of Her Child?' The picture on this particular magazine showed a beautiful but dazed-looking woman dragging a sulky black-haired little girl across a sidewalk. A man in a business suit could be seen in the background.

"Why are you reading that?" he asked one day. "You know it's just a pile of bullshit that the media makes up."

"I wish it were," she mumbled to herself. "Sometimes they are more right than they realize."

With Anita, the weeks seemed to fly by, and soon Fred realized that it was almost May. Final exams were approaching, and that dissertation he'd been working on would be due soon. With the help of Anita, Fred had chosen to specialize in military history. Since he was particularly fascinated with warfare tactics in ancient civilizations, he'd decided to write his paper on a battle that took place between the Persian empire and an alliance of Greek city-states-led primarily by Athens- that took place around 500 B.C.

He worked on it by himself, and threw every effort into writing the best paper he possibly could. This was partially because a large percentage of his grade depended on it, but also because it was important to him. What he'd said to Anita that first day in the coffee shop really was true- he was, deep down, a true history nerd.

It was fitting, then, that it was in the same coffee shop that he finally finished the paper. His friend Lenny, who had also miraculously survived the program, came over to sit with him.

"You're done?" he asked.

Fred grinned and nodded. "Yep. And I've got a really good feeling about this, Len. I think I'm really onto something. I'll probably show it to Anita tonight, ask her what she thinks."

Lenny didn't miss the mentioning of Anita. "So, are you two like, a thing now?"

Fred would be lying if he said that he hadn't expected the question. He'd often wondered about the answer himself. Were he and Anita together? He definitely felt closer to her than he had ever felt to anyone before. They spent a lot of time together, and she must have felt something too, since she hadn't tried to push him away or showed signs of not wanting him around. "Honestly, Len, I don't know myself," he confessed.

"Come on, you can tell me. Did you hook up or anything?"

"No. I mean, I've thought about it, and I definitely would if I thought she wanted to. I just don't know if she wants to." This was something that bothered Fred. He was almost sure she liked him romantically, but she never showed any desire for anything physical. He'd tried to kiss her once or twice, but she'd just ducked out of the way and he'd had to brush it off like he was just reaching for a book or something.

He thought about this as he left the coffee shop and walked back to his room. Anita wasn't like anyone he had ever known before. He knew he liked her, and he was almost sure she liked him. But it was as if there was something holding them back. Something big.

He finally got back to his room, tossed his notes and papers onto the desk, and went to the phone to call her.

He was dialing her number when he heard someone say, "You know, you should really be more careful with these notes." Fred nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What the- How the hell did you get in here, Anita?" he yelped, trying to regain his cool.

"Never mind that. Did you finish it?" she asked.

"I- yeah. Yes. That's why I was going to call you."

She held out a hand. "May I?"

He handed it to her silently. She sat down on the bed and looked through it. He stood and watched her. Minutes began to tick by, but neither of them moved until she finished and looked up.

"So..." He swallowed, then asked, "How was it?"

She got up and walked toward him. And she did the one thing he never would have expected: she took his face in her hands and brought it towards hers, and kissed him softly.

It felt as if a warm spark had gone through him, making him feel brighter, more alive. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, and whispered, "Brilliant."

Fred's heart was pounding. Her eyes smoldered and sparked. He was drawn in to them, wanting to be enveloped in whatever lay behind those beautifully gray orbs. His breath caught in his throat as he whispered, "Anita..."

"No," she said. "Not Anita. I think it's time you knew the truth. Look away for a moment."

He was unwilling to break her gaze, but something in her voice told him to obey. He reluctantly turned. There was a flash of light. When he turned around again, there was no Anita Kepler.

The woman who had replaced her resembled her, but was at the same time so much more. She was taller, for one thing. Her dark, curling hair cascaded across her shoulders. Her arms were bare and encircled with golden armbands, and the rest of her body was draped in a loose white gown. A silver circlet adorned her hair.

Frederick's eyes widened in shock. "W-who are you?" he asked. Fear and anger flooded through him as he wondered if he had been tricked, and if their whole- friendship? whatever it was- was a lie.

Her lips curved upwards. "I am Athena. Goddess of wisdom."

Fred's mouth opened and closed several times before he found his voice. "How?" he finally asked, dumbfounded. He wore an expression of shock as Athena explained the whole concept of Greek gods living in modern America.

They ended up lying side by side on the bed as they talked. Athena reverted back to 'Anita' form in an attempt to make Fred less uncomfortable. "So Olympus is at the top of the Empire State Building."

"Yes, that's right."

"And the sun is really just a guy driving a Maserati."

"Well, he has been known to swap it for a '67 Ford Mustang at times, but essentially, yes."

"And the monsters?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

He sat for a moment and thought about this. "So... If all this is true-"

"Which it is," she added quickly.

"- then why would the goddess of wisdom like hanging around a slacker grad student?"

"Well, why not?"

Fred blinked. "'Why not?' Come on, there's got to be more to it than that."

"Well, of course there is. For one thing, do you see a slacker grad student anymore, when you look at yourself?"

He paused, considering the question, then shook his head no. "Exactly," she continued. "I'm not going to lie; when I first saw you I didn't think all that much. But then you kept talking, and I realized you had potential. Passion. Intelligence. Though I didn't realize just how much until a moment ago, when you showed me the paper you wrote."

"You were the one who brought it out, though," he insisted.

"But it was yours," she replied. "It was your own stroke of genius, Fred. You might think it's random, but in the end, the result will be legendary."

Anita-or Athena, as we can call her now- was far better at understanding a human's mindset than most gods. She understood the innate need for commitment and stability, and was at least aware of their more carnal needs. And she also recognized the instinctive refusal of most humans to realize the hard truths.

This was why, after the night she revealed herself, she let Fred know clearly that it would never work out between them. Here's what happened:

"Fred," she said gently, about a week later, as they walked back from a movie theater, "It's never going to work out between us."

They had gone to see a romantic comedy as part of an assignment for his Sociology class, but she could tell that Fred liked the whole happy-ending, everyone-gets-their-dream-guy/girl, it's-all-good concept. He looked back at her, eyes wide with surprise and hurt.

"Oh, come on," he replied, trying to cover it up with a smile. "Don't be like that. We haven't even been together that long."

"I didn't mean that I was leaving now," she explained, feeling more guilt than was rational. After all, he was only a mortal, and therefore prone to a great deal of disappointment in life anyway. "I only meant that, it can't last forever."

"But-" Fred stopped himself. He realized that her mind was made up. It wouldn't be practical, she'd say. A human and a god can never stay together. Eventually, the mortal dies and the god moves on. "I just thought we had something," he said finally.

"And we do," she replied. "My having to leave doesn't mean that this never existed."

"So it's inevitable?"

"I'm sorry, Fred." She did look genuinely sorry. But she knew the truth, and knew it wasn't worth fighting. She was who she was, and gods couldn't change.

"Just one thing, though," he said hesitantly. "Give me something to remember you by. Just stay until the end of June. That's when I'm leaving for that research trip. Please?"

The end of June, was only a month and a half away. "I can stay until the Summer Solstice," she promised.

In later years, Fred would look back and wonder, if she left right then, would everything have turned out better? It would have been more of a clean break. But he always realized that in the end, he couldn't have let her go until he had to. Up till then, she was like an enigma to him-beautiful, infinitely wise, shrouded in mystery. He kept coming back, trying to learn her ways, to understand her. During those days, the enigma faded and he learned about the woman beneath it.

They spent their days-and some nights-together. He longed for a more physical closeness, but with her, a relationship of the mind seemed much more intimate than he ever thought it could. She told him about everything- the creation of the universe, the rise and fall of the Titans, and the age of the gods.

They saw meteor showers and watched storms, and she told him what they really meant and who caused it. After hearing her explaining that a particularly loud thunderstorm was caused by Hera and Zeus arguing about who got which side of the bed, he felt he'd never take the weather seriously again. They traveled to different cities: New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Boston, Washington D.C., and although she denied doing anything, Fred was a bit suspicious about the way they never got caught in traffic. In the cities they watched the people. She'd point someone out occasionally and comment on their life choices. He soon realized that she was quite fond of most humans. "You all try so hard to know everything about the world around you," she commented. "It's quite endearing."

In some ways, she was an idealist, a lover of justice and fairness. But he could easily see that she was unafraid of enforcing those ideals. Underneath, she was a warrior, too. He saw it one day when they were in Chicago, and a grimy thief snatched a woman's purse. Quickly, with deadly precision, she grabbed the man's wrist and flipped him upside down. He landed with a thud, and dropped the purse and ran. "Wow," said Frederick. "Good thing I haven't gotten on your bad side yet." She smiled and told him that he'd better hope so.

They spent their last day back at Harvard. It was June 20th. They spent the day walking through campus, visiting their favorite spots and the coffee shop. When night fell, she followed him back to the place he was staying. They talked all night, reminiscing and talking about the future until he eventually fell asleep. She lingered for a moment, watching him for one last time, then vanished.

When he woke up, she was gone, and in a sort of daze, he packed for his research trip to Central America. He spent about three weeks there. He was supposed to be finding ancient Aztec relics and formulating conclusions about how they were made, and how they lived. But all he really remembered doing was finding a wooden carving of some pagan Aztec goddess. It was very detailed and would have been quite valuable to some museum somewhere.

He tossed it into the campfire, and blinked furiously to clear his watering eyes as he watched it burn.

At this point, the author would like to take a moment to apologize for the angst. But that was what happened. Anyway, it's likely you can guess what happens next.

He returned to his house in Virginia when the trip was over, to think about his options. The program would be over soon, and one of the historians he had met on his trip had suggested some further opportunities for him.

He was thinking about this one morning. Maybe the idea of teaching undergraduate history could turn out well, after all. He wondered briefly what Athena would say, but then pushed the thought out of his mind, not sure if he was ready to reflect on that yet. Think about something else, he told himself, as he went outside to get the newspaper. What's the date, anyway? July 12? He opened his front door.

"Oh no."

The baby opened her eyes, which were a startling shade of gray and began to cry.

Feeling very confused and unsure of what to do, he picked her up from the golden cradle she had been left in, and found an envelope addressed to him. He took the baby inside, placed her on the couch, and opened it. There were several documents, including a birth certificate with his name under 'Father', and under 'Mother', it said 'Anita Kepler, DECEASED'. There was a letter, too. In perfect cursive, it said:

_**Dear Frederick**__,  
Yes, this child is indeed your daughter and mine. If you will notice, she has your hair and some of your features, although the eyes are mine, a sort of trademark for my children. She was designed by me, but inspired by you. Your curiosity and intelligence, as well as your desire and ability to learn, show some of the very best traits unique to mankind. I've known many other men, but not in many centuries have I known one like you. And likewise, not in many centuries have these men inspired me to create a child such as this one. She will have many trials, but she will triumph. Take pride in her, because she is the result of your stroke of genius.  
Know that I will never forget either of you.  
__**Athena**_**  
**  
There was something else in the envelope. He took it out and found that it was an old golden coin, with a note attached. It read: When she comes of age, toss this coin into a rainbow and ask to see Chiron at Camp HalfBlood.

It all seemed so overwhelming, that he wondered desperately if the child was even his responsibility. Sure, she looked like him, with the hair and the shape of the face and the nose, but he and Athena had never even had sex. Therefore, he couldn't really be made to care for her, could he? It was ridiculous to even think that he could be capable of raising a child. He was single, living alone, and still in grad school.

Now that Athena was gone, the old feelings began to creep in-the long-buried desire to bury expectations and responsibilities and simply live in the moment. He didn't want the baby. Didn't want a piece of his past, a constant reminder that he wasn't enough for the mother. It was more of a consolation prize than a gift.

He paced the floor, struggling to think of his next move. He could give her up for adoption, or better yet, give her back to Athena. Yes, that was it.

And suddenly, she appeared next to him. But she did not look as she had before. She seemed taller, more athletic, and wore a sword at her belt. Frederick, upon seeing her in this new, warlike form, took a step back.

"Frederick Chase, you will not give her away. Nor can I raise her on Olympus," she stated firmly, her eyes piercing his.

"You don't understand!" he protested. "Why me? I don't know anything about being a father! I can't take care of her!"

"No, you don't understand. My children are not a curse. They are a gift."

"But-" he saw her face, and stopped. He knew her, and knew she could not be convinced. "Okay. I guess I'll learn to live with it, then."

Her expression softened slightly. "Maybe you don't like the idea now, Fred. But I know you. You will learn to love her." And with that, she disappeared in a column of flame, leaving only a scorch mark on the carpet and the baby crying on the bed. Gingerly, Fred picked her up. He'd never spent much time around babies, but he tried to copy the way he'd seen other parents hold their kids.

"Shhhh. Please stop crying. I don't know what I'm doing here. And what do I call you, anyway?" He paused for a moment. "Anita? No. Too close. My mother's name was Elizabeth, but that's a bit too common for someone like you. Maybe a combination of the two... Annabeth? Yeah? Is that okay?" The baby stopped crying and settled into his shoulder. "Okay, Annabeth," he whispered. "I have to explain something to you." He didn't know where the words were coming from, but they felt right. "I'm not prepared to be a father. Your mother-well, I don't know if it was fair for her to leave you with me. But none of that is your fault. You probably deserve better than me, but you're still mine, okay?"

He carefully laid her back down in the crib and stood there, looking down at her.

Maybe he wouldn't be the best father in the world. Maybe he'd always be haunted by memories of her mother. But he knew that what the letter had said was true. _'Take pride in her, because she is the result of your stroke of genius.'_

The End

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please feel free to comment, criticize, compliment, complain, etc.


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